Life in Split (Part 1/2)

Tonight we are sitting in the open air, inside the ancient Diocletian’s Palace, in the square known as the Peristil. Back in the day, the Emperor – who was regarded as a god, the son of Jupiter – would appear on his balcony overlooking this square for adulation. Today it’s still a gathering spot. Every night a lightly-amplified singer sets up on the steps outside the restaurant, the music reverberating through the stone buildings. It’s a soft, pleasant October evening, the weather hasn’t changed yet, and most people are in shorts and tee-shirts.

The Peristil at night: Diocletian's balcony in the center, arches and pillars on the left

Paula and I are seated on a stone ledge, entranced by the night, by the location, and the whole scene, as we learn the singer “Could not find what I’m looking for”, but still, he promised that “I’ll Be Your Baby Tonight,” even though “I left the cake out in the rain.” A “Purple Rain”, apparently. And all this must have happened “Yesterday.” (English and American music? This is definitely a tourist crowd!) I glance up. Above our heads rises a heavy carved archway, supported by stone pillars collected from all over the ancient world and mounted here 1800 years ago; a black granite Egyptian sphinx looks on quietly, as it has every night for the last 5,000 years.

The Sphinx. Emperor Diocletian brought a dozen from Egypt; only a couple have been found.

Me and the sphinx (he's not so big after all).

Back at our apartment:   We’re likin’ our neighborhood in Split! The other day Ante, the son of our landlord, was showing us around the “enclave,” and telling us what it was like to grow up here. This is where the poor people lived, he told us the night he picked us up at the airport (and a good thing, too, because we arrived at midnight and never would have found our way through this labyrinth, not even with the help of a taxi driver!) Now, the influx of tourists over the last decade or two has made these winding streets and stone buildings very popular, and every homeowner has at least one rental unit available.

This fountain was a source of drinking water for the neighborhood, before indoor plumbing.

Ante led us past the wall that marks our part of the enclave. It opens up suddenly into a small garden, with fruit trees, trellises, and some good old dirt for growing things, all surrounded by three-story stone buildings and aging stone walls. There wasn’t much privacy here, he explained, but a lot of intimacy. (A profound statement, I thought, especially for one whose native language is not English.) You always knew when, for example, your neighbors’ kids were going through puberty. Oh, I get that! In just the short weeks we’ve been here we have noticed and catalogued the habits of our unknown neighbors: when they’re up and fixing breakfast; at home with the TV on during the day; when the grandkids come over to play.

There’s a little football field (well, we call it soccer in the US) over there, he says, pointing. You go up the road, and turn left at the old split tree…  Later, we did that, locating the old tree and wandering through the alleys and pathways. We found the field, where a father was playing with his infant daughter while his son, barely old enough to walk, kicked a ball around. It felt intimate; in fact, it felt invasive, to those of us who grew up in the wide open suburbs where everybody has their own, carefully fenced, yard. But nobody so much as glanced at us; we were just passersby on the public walkway. And I understood how this could be a great place to grow up. I’m sure kids in the area know every path: which goes where, the ones that connect to another street, and those that dead-end at someone’s front door.

 

A little chapel hidden in the 'hood

But we don’t spend much time in our immediate neighborhood. We pass through the “old town,” the palace, regularly, and have explored the wider area a bit, especially the Marjan Forest Park. And we’ve also visited a few outlying towns…

Trogir

Our first day trip, a nice ocean cruise. OK, it was a 60-minute ferry ride through the bay to the small town of Trogir. It was great to get out on the water, after so much time spent on Split’s docks! Trogir is located west of Split, just past the airport, where the mainland narrows down and points seaward, and the adjacent island narrows down and points landward, leaving a slim gap. A couple of bridges added in recent times means the island is well-connected to mainland Croatia, and larger boats can no longer make it through that gap. But that’s ok; our boat was small enough to fit under the first bridge, and we enjoyed several hours in the small town before taking the afternoon ferry back.

Arriving in Trogir by boat

Nothing says VENICE! like these windows

Like all towns in this area, Trogir shows a strong Venetian influence in its architecture. Long before Italy became a country (which didn’t happen until the 19^th Century) Venice was a powerful city-state. Once its navy drove the pirates out of the Adriatic and kept the shipping lanes clear, the city got very very rich on trade, exchanging goods with regions as far away as Greece and North Africa. And its influence is apparent all over the region.

The clock tower of St Sebastian's Church, from the 15th Cent. (Does this clock make me look like Venice?)

There’s not a lot to Trogir, but wandering the old narrow streets squeezed between ancient stone buildings gives a view to another era, another lifetime. We spent a pleasant afternoon exploring, and listening to the Croatian klapa singers (a melodic, harmonic a cappella folk music). At the Cathedral of St. Lawrence, with its richly carved portal finished in 1240, there are carved stone lions, nearly identical to those in Split. And, we found Đovani, which may well be the best pastry shop on the Dalmatian Coast. By the time the boat left to take us back to Split, we felt our day had been well spent.

Klapa singers in Trogir, Croatia

Cathedral of St Lawrence. Cool carvings!

Another view of the portal to St Lawrence. Stone lions much like those in Split, plus Adam and Eve (above the  lions)

Say good-by to Trogir!

Klis Fortress

The Dalmatian Coast is incredibly rugged, with sharp coastal peaks dropping suddenly to the sea. These mountains provide a nearly impenetrable barrier, protecting coastal dwellers for centuries. Just north of Split, though, there is a cut through the mountains. And rising up from this valley is a narrow ridge. It’s clear that whoever controls the valley controls the coast, and whoever controls this ridge controls the valley… and therefore the coast. This ridge, now called the Klis Fortress, has been fortified for at least 2000 years.

Klis Fortress, seen from the town of Klis

Looking out from Klis towards Split and the Marjan Park on a hazy day

Every fort must have a cannon, right? Here's one at Klis.

Klis was governed by the Knights Templar for a time in the 12^th Century; it held off the Mongols and the Ottoman Empire… for a while. Suleiman the Magnificent did eventually capture Klis (16^th C.), and the Turks held it for about a century. Napoleon Bonaparte captured it in 1790, after which, due to the changing nature of warfare, the fortress lost much of its value. And today, it’s remembered mainly as a filming location for Game of Thrones (a stand-in for the city of Meereen).

Klis Fortress today

The City of Meereen from the Game of Thrones video (image from Google Images)

I found the thrills of Klis to be mainly historical. Now it’s just a ruin, although there are attempts to install a museum and historical information. Still, we thought 60 Kuna (about $10USD) a bit stiff for entry. It has potential for fabulous views, although it was quite hazy the day we were there. Finding our way there on the city bus was fun, even if we spent the morning figuring out when, exactly, the bus would arrive in downtown Split.

View towards the coast from Klis Fortress

While I’m glad we went up there, all in all, I’d say a rating of three stars out of five is about right.

               Up next: further explorations up and down the Dalmatian Coast